


part two (we're healing)

by call_me_steve



Series: they say this is home (but home is with you) [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I made it, I think not, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is a good brother, Panic Attacks, So I gave it to him, THE SEQUEL IS HERE, Tim Drake also probably needs a hug, Tim Drake is ALSO A GOOD BROTHER, but tim wanted more screen time, continuity? what's that, dick isn't rlly in this one that much i'm sorry, did i deliver?, for exactly .3 seconds, he gets one, he was supposed to have that third section to himself, he's also robin, is this really what you wanted?, is this what you all wanted?, kind of, lots of hugs, more than that nevermind, oh! there's more tags, ok, or anxiety?? im not a doctor but there's something there, stinky rat baby, terrible, that tag up there? damian wayne needs a hug?, two i think, uhhhhhhh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: After the events ofblood in my lungs, the batboys ban together and they start on the road of healing. Let it be known, when Damian Wayne gets hurt, his brother's- all of them- will be there for him, no matter what. Especially when it involves Bruce.(Or, Damian's healing process gets off to a rocky start, Tim's gets a boost, and they'll both make it out okay. Or, at least they think they will. They all have each other, after all.)
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Series: they say this is home (but home is with you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570438
Comments: 23
Kudos: 715





	part two (we're healing)

**Author's Note:**

> ok then
> 
> i don't think i quite did this right. dick deserved more justice, but the stinky boy didn't want to be written in. maybe we'll try again with a part three. 
> 
> also, i wasn't sure whether to add this as another chapter to the old one, but then i figured i'd rather just make it a series and do this, so. hey.
> 
> i've got a tumblr now! --> [potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/)

Damian opens his eyes to cool white ceiling tiles and crisp white sheets. His head rings almost immediately, screaming when he pushes past it to sit up straight. A monitor beeps annoyingly to his left. A hospital then, something must’ve gone wrong with his civilian identity- Had he been Robin, he’d be down in the cave with Pennyworth by his side. 

Speaking of, Pennyworth isn’t anywhere to be seen. Paired with that- _no one_ is. Damian is utterly alone. 

That’s- That’s _weird._ It’s almost guaranteed that someone will be by his side, what with his family. With Father’s uncanny ability to basically adopt every child he meets, Damian’s sibling count keeps rising. Sometimes, one of his siblings brings a friend to the mansion, and it’s all Damian can do to assume that they’re the Wayne’s newest child. Or something like that. Living with Father is highly confusing-

_And highly painful._

The heart monitor by his side picks up as he chokes back a sob. His eyes glaze over with tears as all of the previous weeks’ events hit him like a train. Drake being hit by Father shakes him down to the core. Damian hadn’t ever seen Father hit any one other than the villains and him. That, and Drake’s reaction made it seem like what Father did wasn’t _right._ How wasn’t it? Mother had done it. Grandfather had, on those rare occasions that he actually thinks that hitting Damian is worth the time. 

Damian grew up this way. Perhaps it was the soul fact that Drake, being as weak as he- No. Damian doesn’t dare finish that thought. He’s wrong, he knows it. 

The moment that Drake had come back to the manor to sweep him up, Grayson and Todd trailing straight behind him, was the moment that Damian knew that what Father was doing to him _wasn’t_ right. Hitting children wasn’t any way to _raise_ them. It was simply a way to form them into the vision of the perfect child. An outlet for rage. 

Why wasn’t Batman’s adventures around Gotham enough to quell Father’s rage? 

Why wasn’t Father’s love for his children enough to harness that rage and change how he expressed it? 

Why wasn’t Damian _enough?_

Had he been better, Father wouldn’t have had to hit him. Had Damian been the _best_ as Mother had _trained_ him to be- No, no. How Mother trained him to be, the perfect _assassin_ , wasn’t what Father wanted to make him into. Father wanted him to be perfect, yes, but the perfect _soldier_ who didn’t dare lift a finger at civilians and who didn’t dare even think that for a moment killing was the way to solve their problems. 

Father wanted him to be a tin soldier. Mother wanted him to be an assassin prince. 

Or something like that. 

Damian stares down at his hands. A tear drips down his cheek and onto the sheets, staining in a shade darker. His hands curl into fists. Why can’t either of them just let Damian be who he wanted to be? Who he _wants_ to be? Without _hitting_ him? Without pretending that he’s made of clay, that he is malleable and able to be morphed into what they need and want and wish? 

He can’t quite suppress his next sob.

The door opens as he dissolves into a snotty mess of tears. 

“Damian!” the person says- a low tenor, male. He tries to look up and see whoever it is, but his eyes are too blurry to see them clearly enough. Black hair, blue eyes- 

His mind flashes straight to _Father_ and he scrambles back with a near scream. “Don’t- _Don’t-_ ” Father has never taken into consideration what Damian _wants_ or what he _says._ Father lashes out with wild abandon, so his words die in his throat and his arms come up to protect his head because while Mother taught him to stay strong in the face of danger, Damian is too young to not heed his screaming headache. Launching himself backward multiplies the pain. He breathes through it and rubs at his eyes. 

“Damian,” the person says again. They don’t put their hands on Damian, no, instead they hover above Damian where he can see them clear as day, even with his hazy eyes. “It’s Tim. You’ve gotta lay back down.” 

Damian can hear Drake- _why is it Drake, not a doctor, or Father, or Grays-_ (he cuts that thought off too, before he can realize how attached he really is)- breathe, and tries to sync his own breathing to his brother’s. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. 

Drake catches on and starts counting out loud, before Damian’s mind can pull at the numbers and muddle them further. “In, two, three, four- Yeah, just like that. Out, two, three, four, in, two, three, four- You’re doing great, Dami. Just a couple more.” 

A couple more morphs into almost ten. Damian half-expects Drake to pull away after only doing two or three, directions fulfilled. The fact that he bothers to continue on makes Damian’s gut feel like lead. He latches on to Drake at some point, breathing returning to normal. Drake doesn’t dare let him go. He thumbs at Damian’s back, rubbing circles as he picks up an empty conversation. 

“Dick stepped out to grab some food- I’ve gotta say, this was the weirdest timing for you to wake up. Like- Dick hadn’t left your side for the entire time you’ve _been here,_ and the one moment he does, you end up waking up.” Drake chuckles. It feels dry. “Jason’s still talking with the police… I guess it takes a lot to get a billionaire like Bruce arrested, or even just filed in for stuff like this. 

“They said like thirty times, _are you_ sure _he hit your little brother? Are you_ sure _Bruce Wayne hit you? Did you see it happen? Could it be that you were just roughhousing?_ God, I wanted to fight them- Jason almost did! You should’ve _seen_ him get all up in her face!” He lowers his face into a scowl, dropping his voice down an octave. “ _What the fuck is wrong with the lot of you? Is it really that hard to believe that ‘Brucie’ beats down on little kids in his free time?_

“I guess they’re just lucky that it’s Jason and not Dick talking to them,” he grins. Damian's not sure why he's acting like all of this is funny. It's _not_. But, then, Drake's personality flips on a dime. “He was- Dick got really pissed when Bruce hit you again. Did you- You- You knew that, right? You _know_ that he loves you? They all do. Dick and Jason do. Bruce- I- He-” 

“You don’t have to defend Father,” Damian says, bitterly. “What he did was-” 

“Wrong. Completely and utterly terrible and wrong.” 

Damian gives a small nod. They hit a lull in the conversation. Damian’s mind snags around the ‘ _you know that he loves you?_ they _all do’_. They. Not we. While he might’ve changed his view about Drake and come to realize a few things, he’d be foolish to believe that Drake had to go through the same. Drake didn’t owe Damian anything as foolish as love. Not with what he’d done, all that time ago. 

“I’m sorry Father hit you,” Damian says. “You didn’t deserve it.” 

“And you did?” 

“I- Mother had done much the same- Isn’t that the only logical conclusion?” 

Drake’s arms tighten around Damian’s waist. Damian wishes he could see his brother’s face right now, to read his emotions. Words have ever quite been enough for Damian- they’re full of double meanings and hidden lies. They can be filled with truths and still be manipulative. Words have done Damian more damage than his actions ever have, but to him, actions say it all. Father’s fists, Mother’s subtle rage hidden in tense shoulders, Grayson’s tender hugs. 

Damian’s blood stained fingernails and his scowl and his bared teeth when he feels cornered and the way he _attacks_ when he feels threatened because he’s young and afraid and that’s the only way he’s ever known- if you don’t hurt back then you’re as good as dead and Damian doesn’t want to die again-

So why hadn’t he fought back against Father? 

“Jason and Dick,” Drake pipes up, “they love you- And- I- Dammit, Damian, I love you too, you know that? I hate that I just let Bruce do this to you while I was still living at home. I hate that after he hit me, I left you _alone_ to go talk to Jason and Dick when I should’ve at _least_ brought you with me. You didn’t deserve any of that stuff, Damian- and- You’re my little _brother,_ and you’re the only little brother I’ve _got._ ” 

The door opens again. It’s the doctor. 

Drake doesn’t let him go. 

\--

_Tim stands by Jason’s side as they watch Damian get loaded up into an ambulance. Dick’s the one who clambers in after him, with the promise that he’ll talk to the police when they arrive._

_Jason picks up the conversation with the police as he argues about sending Bruce to jail. Tim finds it hilarious, almost, that the police find it so hard to believe that Gotham’s resident Brucie actually hits his round of (little Robins) orphans. They keep suggesting things that sound outlandish._

_Finally, one offers Jason and Tim a ride to the hospital. “We’ll take Mr. Wayne to the police station for questioning, but- This whole thing-”_

_“Unbelievable,” Jason scowls. “We can drive ourselves.”_

_They take the bike. The police follow._

\--

It’s Todd who takes Damian home to Grayson’s apartment in Blüdhaven. Drake decides to hang back and get his questioning done with the police. They’ll be coming after Damian soon enough, hopefully to put forth a court statement. While he won’t be staying forever, Todd explains that he’ll be spending the night at least. 

“Dickhead will be home soon,” he sighs, settling down onto his bike. He hands Damian the spare helmet and pauses as he tries to decide where to set him. “Front or back?” 

“My head is still ringing,” Damian utters, after a beat. It really is. It’s making it hard to see straight. Lights feel to bright as they glare as if he’s staring at them behind a rainy windshield. He’s got bandages wrapping around his forehead, a bruise crawling up the side of his face. Todd decides to set Damian in front of him and Damian leans back into his chest. Before all of this, he would have insisted on not allowing his condition to hinder this and settle down behind his brother, but right now, he doesn’t feel like he really trusts himself. 

It sounds like it’s hard for Todd to spit out, _Thank you for not lying to me about your condition,_ in his Todd-like way. (He swears, a lot. He’s also fun. Surprisingly funny, yet morbid.) 

They speed off without much fanfare. 

Grayson’s apartment feels empty without the man there himself. He briefly entertains the idea of calling him up on the phone, but if what Todd says is right, he’ll be preoccupied with the police. Instead, once Jason’s squirreled away in the bathroom for a shower, Damian wrestles into a spare Robin uniform that he keeps in Grayson’s apartment and resigns himself to a slow night. He positions himself on the window sill, knees up to his chest. Just as he pushes himself off the ledge- 

“ _Hell no!_ ” 

There’s a hand on his cape, yanking him back into the apartment. There’s a scream rising from his throat. There’s that familiar panic as he curls in on himself, expecting a hit to come. Whether it be from Mother, Father, or the day’s crook, being yanked back comes with bruises and pain and-

And a- a hug? 

Damian blinks away the fog. Todd’s arms are wrapped around him, pressing Damian’s back into his chest so his feet aren’t touching the floor. His arms are trapped to his sides. It’s less of a hug and more of a way to restrain him. 

Todd drops to the floor and twists Damian around in his lap so they’re properly hugging. Damian lets his arms snake up and around Todd’s neck. They rest on his brother’s shoulders. His legs fold in Todd’s lap. Todd's wet hair drips onto his cheeks.

They sit here for a good chunk of time, until Todd decides to speak up. “No patrol,” he says. “Not yet.” 

“Gotham can’t go a night without Batman- Blüdhaven can’t go a night without Nightwing! We need people out there! To make sure our cities don’t go up in flames, Todd!” Damian withdraws from Todd just enough to wave his hands around wildly. “I understand that Gotham has other vigilantes- Blüdhaven is slow at best, but- _Todd-_ ” 

“It’s not even about the capes,” Todd snarks. “You’re just like Bruce- trying to distract yourself by fuckin’ around in the cowl and beating up guys twice your size! Don’t you ever think that what you’re doing is going to get you killed one of these days?” 

There’s a sharp sting of _something_ that Damian can’t quite name. He can’t stop it from flashing across his face. The mere thought of being like Father is something that Damian’s been striving to be since he _came_ to Gotham. Being like Father, being like Mother and Grandfather- it’s all he’s ever wanted. Now-? Now, the whole thought turns everything sour. That’s not what he wants to be. That’s not _who_ he wants to be anymore. 

Father _hurts_ those that he loves, those that he was _supposed_ to love. Mother tried to _kill_ her own _son_ with his _clone._ Grandfather never really ever _loved_ Damian. Damian didn’t have a place in his heart. He was an ‘it’. A pawn to be used however they needed.

He wasn’t even a _good_ pawn at that. 

Some kind of dry half-sob half-laugh escapes his throat. 

Father _hurts_ his very own children, and if Damian’s just like him- 

Damian’s one fear is hurting those who he loves. Getting them hurt one way or another. _Killing_ them. They had no room for love in the League. (That’s probably why Grandfather and Mother never loved him.) This whole love thing is new to him- totally uncharted territory. He doesn’t want to mess his relationships up because of his faults. 

But if he’s just like Father, that means that he’s already doing that. 

Damian slaps a hand over his mouth and chokes out a strangled _I’m sorry_. He takes a step away from Todd and crumples to the floor, tucking his knees up to his chest. His stupid gloves feel rough against his face and his mask loosens the more that he blinks back tears. He’s so _stupid_ for letting Drake’s words twist his view- of _course_ he deserved what Father did. Had he not, Mother wouldn’t have done the same when he lived with her. Had he _not-_

“Hey- _No._ ” 

He looks back up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. 

Todd’s scooted forward enough to reach out for him. Damian suppresses his flinch, but allows himself to screw his eyes closed- All Todd does is gently peel off his already peeling mask and set in aside. “Hey, buddy,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

He tries to make his face say, _for?_ , without using his voice. He doesn’t quite trust it yet. It’ll wobble and betray him, yet another weakness that his mother would fully punish him for. Why couldn’t he keep these damn tears at bay? He’d been doing it for years, long before he’d ever encountered Father. 

(He thinks back to meeting Goliath, and hates himself just a little bit more.) 

“I didn’t- Look. You aren’t- You’re not like Dick. Dick’s openly ooey-gooey and chummy with everyone he meets. And- you aren’t like Tim. He’s stupidly smart and” -and all Damian can think is that Todd’s point is that Damian is terrible and has no good, redeeming qualities because that would be right, Damian is a horrible person, built up from the ground by flaws and scars and a sword thrusted into a two year old’s hand- “you’re not me. Thank _God_ you aren’t me, by the way.” Todd laughs, self-deprecating. Damian swallows the lump in his throat and rubs at his eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say,” Todd continues, “is that you aren’t Bruce either.” He sighs, loud and long, into the palm of his hand. “I suck at this, okay? I’m just trying to say that you aren’t like any of us, because you’re like _Damian._ You’re _good._ You’re so, so good- but sometimes I just see flashes of the rest of _us_ in you, and it _scares_ me, so, so bad-” 

He remembers when Father told him, _sometimes you make me think that you don’t care for anyone other than yourself._

Is this what Todd is trying to say? 

“-because you’re supposed to be _better_ than all of us. So when I see flashes of _Bruce_ and his whole patrol shtick- It scares me, Dames. You’re gonna- You’re gonna waste away or some shit! Just like him! I don’t want that for you-” 

“You’re starting to sound like Grayson,” Damian sniffs out, because he doesn’t want to _hear_ this coming from _Todd_ of all people. He doesn’t want to hear this at all, it makes the world to serious and clear and that scares him most of all. “I won’t go on patrol. Happy?” 

The look Todd gives him says, _We’re dropping this._ The look Todd gives him says, _you don’t understand it yet._ The look Todd gives him says, _I’ll just have to get Dick to explain it._

Todd and Damian are both in agreement then. Grayson’s always been the better one of the Wayne’s wards and Robin’s. He’s open. He’s better. 

Damian wishes he could just measure up for once in his life. 

\--

_Tim stands by Dick’s side, only the barest threads of self-control holding him back from tearing away at the police. He should’ve known that Bruce’s reputation would save him someday. He should’ve known that you can’t put Batman in jail._

_He should’ve known that the police will never find it in themselves to trust kids like them. The bastards and the brats. The orphans that are just here for the cash and the attention and the name._

_How the hell are they supposed to get justice for their little brother now?_

\--

When Grayson comes home, Damian makes sure he’s awake. The moment he comes stumbling through the door with his arms laden with bags from the manor, Damian launches himself at him, forcing his brother to drop all of his bags. Drake pauses in the doorway long enough to allow for Grayson to move out of the way. Then, Drake drops down and piles the bags into his arms, discarding them on the couch. 

“No patrol,” Damian says, immediately, as Todd looks up at them from his spot on the floor. They’d been playing a card game, before Damian abandoned it. “You two have to stay home now.” 

Grayson beams down at him, arm tucked beneath Damian’s thighs to keep him from returning to the ground. Damian wraps his arms around Grayson’s neck, letting his head rest on his older brother’s shoulder. “Of course not, Dames! We’re home for the rest of the night. Once I take a shower and we order some pizza, we can watch a movie, if you want.” 

The two move- Grayson moves, anyway- and they collect two of the bags. “I don’t have a guest bedroom- I wasn’t ever planning on having anyone over,” Grayson continues. He winces at his own words. Damian opts to ignore the stab of pain that pierces his heart. “I’ll start looking for bigger apartments if you’re planning on sticking around, Tim. Unless you’re heading back to the Teen Titans?” 

“I’ll stay here for a few days,” Drake says, shifting his weight to his other foot. On the floor, Todd starts shuffling the cards together, picking up their abandoned game. “Then I’ll head back to the tower. For now, I can just take the couch. You and Damian are sharing, right?” 

“If it’s fine with Dames,” Grayson replies, bouncing Damian slightly. “Jason, you’ve gotta take the floor. I have an air mattress you can blow up. It’s kind of old, though.” 

Todd gives Grayson a nod. “Damian and Tim can go grab it, I’m putting away the cards.” Damian can hear _we need to talk_ loud and clear. It still tugs at his heart when Grayson puts him down and ushers the two off. The faster that Damian can grab the air mattress, the faster he can get back to bugging Grayson. 

One look at Drake flushes that whole plan down the drain. There’s no way that Damian’s getting to Grayson’s side any time soon. His brothers are clearly conspiring against him, Todd’s going to rat him out to Grayson and Drake’s here to keep him from attaching himself to Grayson’s hip like a leech. 

It’s not a big deal. Affection is for the weak and attachment is even wors-

Damian doesn’t have enough time to suppress his cry of surprise, as Drake wraps his arms around his waist and hoists him up and off of his feet. Panic flashes in Damian’s mind. “Un _hand_ me, you wretched _imp_! What the hell are you _planning_? If this is you enacting your _murder_ plan, then I’ll have yo-” 

“Shut up,” Drake says, and it bears no heat. Damian clicks his jaw shut anyway. It takes him a few seconds to figure out that they aren’t even walking. They’re just standing in the hallway, Drake- who’s only just taller than Damian by a few inches- holding him for no apparent reason. It’s weird. Kinda pretty weird. And odd. It’s probably all part of their plan to trap Damian away from Grayson so Todd can throw him under the bus like the traitorous bastard he is! 

Drake shifts Damian in his hold without putting him down, so instead of Damian’s back pressed against him, they’re chest to chest. Then, he hoists Damian up and over his shoulder as if he’s just a sack of _potatoes._

Damian’s head jolts and his vision splits. He doesn’t say a word. 

“Do you know where the air mattress is?” Drake asks, and Damian fumes. 

“Had you not abducted me from the ground, I’d have already found the air mattress! As long as you decide to carry me this way, you’ll just have to find the damn thing yourself!” he cries. It’s not until Drake hums, a smile hidden in his voice, that Damian realizes he’s just played into his hand. His face falls in mock-horror. “I retract my statement! Put me down this instant or return me to Grayson!” 

Drake doesn’t listen to a work he says. 

“You fool! You moronic, pigheaded, six piece Chicken Mc _Nobo_ -” 

“Who taught you that one?” Drake asks, aghast. He pushes open Grayson’s door. At least he’s got the room right.

Damian huffs and slams a fist against Drake’s back. “Those stupid kids at that _stupid_ school did,” he relents, anyway. “I’m sure you know the Grant’s, yes? It’s their son- the middle school one with the curly mop on his head. I swear that he has a never ending arsenal of McDonald’s insults and quips hidden up his overly long sleeves! Why anyone would devote their time to _that_ particular art is something I have yet to learn.” 

Talking like this is overly simple, Damian knows. It’s small talk. Damian’s never _done_ small talk, certainly not with _Drake_ of all people. And yet, as he resigns himself to breathing in sync with Drake, feeling him bump up and down whenever Drake takes a step one way or another, he feels his nerves lessen. He’s in less of a hurry to swarm Grayson- (and realizes now that the idea in and of itself was foolish and stupid and not something that he needs to admit aloud)- and less of a rush to go attack Todd for his crimes against humanity and Damian Wayne. 

When Drake picks up the conversation to ramble about his own classmate’s stupidity- he’s taking college courses for fun, or something like that, because Father pushed him too- Damian doesn’t quite _listen,_ but he lets the words wash over him as he takes them in. 

“-and I swear she’s missing a fe- oh! Found it! It’s the big, big queen one, right?” 

Damian tt’s. “Of course it is. I can’t believe it took you this long to find it. Now! Return me to Grayson’s side at _once._ ” 

Drake’s shoulders _fall,_ sending Damian’s view to Drake’s hips. “You haven’t seen him yet, have you?” he says, and Damian can’t figure out what Drake means for the life of him. 

“Not since the hospital,” he answers, honestly. Then, more defensive, “Is that a problem-?” 

His brother’s shoulders go right back up, tense and digging into Damian’s gut. His arm tightens around Damian’s back, too. “No! Not- No. It’s just- You’re Dick and Dami-” 

“-don’t you _dare_ call me that, you-” 

“-and- _God._ You didn’t even _see_ him. The first thing he _did_ after Bruce- after you- you went _bouncing_ off the fuckin’ _wall_ was _corner Bruce!_ But- But every time you get hurt, he’s supposed to go to _you!_ But-” 

But- But _what?_ Damian’s actually _surprised_ that Drake doesn’t understand it this time. Sure, he himself hadn’t dwelled on it up until the whole hospital shtick and the ride to Grayson’s place, but he understood just what Grayson had done and why. Drake was supposed to be a _detective-_ ( _stole not only Father’s love, but Grandfather’s admiration that Damian had worked for for years-_ but he hadn’t, and that train of thought is years old and Damian is better than it.) How did he not know? How did he not figure it out? 

“Grayson wasn’t only upset about me,” Damian says, carefully. “You know this, correct? He- He was upset because it was _you_ and it was him and Todd and- And- Of course he didn’t run to _me,_ you dolt! He’s the oldest of us. He was _protecting_ us. You think he’d just let Todd go deal with it and then let _Todd_ get smacked around? No- Grayson- Grayson does what Father was supposed to do. What he’s _supposed_ to do.” 

Damian pats on Drake’s back, squirming. Surprisingly, Drake sets him down without complaint. Damian swallows his pride for a moment, and takes Drake’s face into his. His brother’s lips are pulled into a tight frown, eyes alight with confusion.

Damian takes a deep breath. “Grayson protects his own, and that includes _you,_ Timothy. Do- Don’t second guess your worth anymore. I-” He trails off, pressing his teeth into his lips hard enough to draw blood. “I _know_ I’ve taken from you more than I’ve given _to_ you, during my time of knowing you. This includes Grayson’s own attention. Though- As for Father’s- I- I don’t believe I _regret_ taking it away from you-” 

He hopes the implications of his statement is enough, because he doesn’t want to say the words aloud for the world to hear. 

(Had he not taken Father’s attention, wasn’t there a _chance_ that Drake would, instead, become Father’s punching bag?) 

“Regardless,” he continues, pretending as if Drake’s eyes weren’t wet, “I know that by letting you know of Father’s actions, I took away from you and your own healing from what he did to you. I should have-”

Drake grips Damian’s wrists. “Stop. Don’t continue that sentence, Damian.” 

Fine then. He won’t. 

“Richard loves you, Timothy.” 

“He loves you too, Damian.” 

“As you’ve said before.” 

“You know, I’m so unbelievably proud of you for letting it slip about what Bruce was doing. And I’m proud of how much progress you’ve made since I’ve met you.” 

“It is not your job to be proud of me, Drake.” 

“Tim.” 

“Take me back to Grayson.” 

He does. 

All’s right with the world.

\--

_Dick lies with Damian, later that night, holding his little brother like if he doesn’t, he’ll disappear._

_He thinks about Bruce. He thinks about bruises that aren’t from patrol and of lies that roll of the lips and of a little boy with brilliant blue eyes standing beside his parents before they’re torn from him._

_He holds Damian a little tighter._

_“I’m sorry, little D,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I let him do this.”_

_(Damian’s ten years old when his world shakes. He’s ten when it falls apart again. He’s ten when his brother’s ban together to piece his world_ together _with their stupid words and their double meanings and their hugs._

_He’s ten when he realizes what love is, and it suddenly becomes enough.)_


End file.
